


Lessons from Heaven

by HazelDomain



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blindfolds, Bobby's Panic Room, Bottom Sam, Castiel-centric, Community: spnkink_meme, Episode: s04e21 When the Levee Breaks, Episode: s04e22 Lucifer Rising, Episode: s05e10 Abandon All Hope..., Gags, M/M, Non-Consensual Bondage, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Punishment, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Sam Hallucinates, Stripping, Top Castiel, Violated but not enjoying it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-21 08:10:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6044419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HazelDomain/pseuds/HazelDomain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam's locked down for the duration of the demon blood detox. Castiel has orders to make sure he knows just how bad he's screwed up.  </p><p> </p><p>Chapter 2 now up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. When the Levee Breaks

 

 

“Is this really necessary?”

“It’s the last seal, Castiel. Lilith _must_ be killed.”

“But _this?_ ”

Zachariah eyed him warily.

“I understand the need to separate the two of them, but these orders seem excessive. Sam is already-”

“Once again, Castiel, your loyalty leans away from Heaven and toward the Winchesters. I am getting tired of having this conversation with you.”

Castiel stared at the ground.

“Will you follow Heaven’s orders, or not?”

“… yes.”

 

 

Sam was talking to his brother. Defending himself. Castiel was troubled. Drinking demon blood was abhorrent, an affront to the heavenly father, but Sam’s intentions were good. Honest.

Sam was desperately begging Dean’s forgiveness and approval. Castiel felt a sudden burst of sympathy, which he crushed before it could interfere with his resolve. Sam pleaded with his brother, but whatever the hallucination said back, it wasn’t what Sam wanted to hear. He fell back onto the cot, staring up at the devil trap on the ceiling. Tears glittered in his eyes.

Sam.

The true vessel. The demon child.

The abomination.

Castiel steeled himself, slipping easily into Sam’s plane of sight.

“Hello Sam.”

“Cas! Cas, listen, this is important-“

“Lilith. I know.”

The relief on Sam’s face was clear, even from halfway across the room.

“Thank you. Thank you so much, Cas, you don’t know-“

“You misunderstand me.” Castiel’s voice was steely. “I’m not here to help you. Your part in this is over. Your brother is the one chosen by God. Not you. You’re just an addict.”

“I was _helping_ people.”

“And you were told not to.” Castiel crossed the room, looking down into Sam’s face. “You’re an abomination. Dirtied in the eyes of heaven. Even your own brother has forsaken you.”

Sam’s eyes rolled back to the place where his brother had stood before.

“Dean?” Sam asked weakly.

“He’s not going to help you through this. Through any of it.” Castiel played idly with the top button of Sam’s shirt. “You’re on your own for this one.”

“Cas? What are you doing?”

Castiel pressed his palm over Sam’s mouth, staring down at him through eyes like ice.

“You don’t say my name. It was given to me by God himself and His words have no place on your tongue.”

Sam stared up at Castiel, but was quiet.

“The first warnings have gone unheeded,” Castiel continued. “You’ve been sending prayers to God since you were a child, playing the part of the honest believer, so we foolishly assumed that you would obey a _direct order from Heaven._ Obviously, we were wrong. Your corruption runs deep enough to masquerade even as honesty in a child.”

Sam tried to shake his head, to protest, but Castiel held him still. His other hand continued working it way through Sam’s buttons.

“You’ve deliberately disobeyed the word of God. You’ve tarnished your soul, irreparably, and even knowing that, you won’t stop. You feign guilt and remorse, even as you actively seek to continue. It’s repulsive.”

Castiel pulled the clothing aside, staring down at Sam’s bare chest.

“If you could see your soul as I do. The twisted, foul thing you’ve made it into. You would fall to your knees and weep.”

Sam bucked as Castiel drew his hand softly, even tenderly along his skin.

“But all you can see is this. You humans are so caught up in the physical. We underestimated your ignorance of the damage you were doing. It was only when the blood’s taint began to affect you _physically_ that you saw the problem. So I’m going to help you understand.”

Castiel released Sam’s mouth, ignoring the sputtered questions and protests. He tore a long strip of cloth off Sam’s shirt, wrapping it around two fingers until it formed a tight bundle. Then he gripped Sam’s face, holding his jaw open and shoving the cloth inside.

“What I need you to do,” Castiel explained, looking into Sam’s eyes from a few inches away, “is pay close attention to what’s happening to you. Otherwise the lesson will be lost. Do you understand?”

Sam mumbled something that might have been a curse. Castiel dismissed it. He pushed Sam’s shirts over his shoulders, baring the man’s throat and collarbones. His fingers traced over ribs and muscles, making their way to the hem of Sam’s jeans. He slid a finger under the hem and pulled, tearing the thick fabric as easily as a human would tear tissue paper. He slit open one legs and then the other, before discarding the useless garment.

The cuffs on Sam’s wrists and ankles held him spread, unable to cover himself. He shifted, face flushing red.

“Your body is temporary, outside your control. The shame you feel now is displaced. It’s your soul you should seek to cover.”

Through the gag, Sam moaned what was undoubtedly his brother’s name. He reached out towards the place near the door.

Castiel laid one hand on his cheek.

“Your brother has sworn allegiance to Heaven. He has no loyalty to you. He knows you’re going to be punished, and he has given his permission. This is for the best, Sam.”

Castiel tore another strip of flannel off Sam’s shirt, wrapping it round the man’s head to cover his eyes. Sam’s breath came fast and hard, and Castiel placed a hand on his chest, stroking him softly.

“Just breathe. You’re still distracted. The restraints should help keep you grounded. There is nothing you need to say, or see, or do. You simply need to feel.”

Sam’s breathing gradually slowed. When Castiel felt that he was sufficiently calm, he continued speaking.

“I know this is difficult. Having control is important to you. Maybe that’s one of the reasons you started on the blood in the first place. Please, rest assured that you have none of the control here.” He dropped his hands to Sam’s thighs, fingers splayed across his hips, thumbs rubbing small circles into his groin. “This _is_ going to happen to you. It will be easier for both of us if you can relax.”

Sam moaned as Castiel began moving his hands. Gently, the angel caressed him, fingers pressing against his belly and hips and thighs, carefully avoiding his cock and balls. Sam whimpered, but the tension in his body began to ease. Castiel circled the cot, trailing a hand down Sam’s leg, until he stood at the foot.

“I’m going to move you. This may feel odd.”

Castiel reached out and _pulled,_ dragging Sam down the cot until his knees were bent and his shackled hands were level with his shoulders. Sam shouted, twisting and lashing out as best as the bonds would allow. Castiel placed his hands flat on Sam’s hips, forcing him to lay flat. He waited patiently for Sam to stop struggling.

“Do you trust the restraints now?”

Sam nodded silently. Beneath the blindfold, his cheeks were wet with tears.

“Good. If you’re fighting them then you aren’t paying attention. Remember, this is a lesson as much as a punishment.” He paused. “What is going to happen next might be somewhat painful. It will be less so if you can relax your body.”

His hands moved from Sam’s hips down the insides of his thighs, sliding underneath to cup Sam’s ass. Sam flinched, his breath coming in hard gasps as Castiel spread his cheeks, exposing his hole. His whole body was tense, anxious. Castiel paused again, squeezing gently to let Sam know that he was waiting.

“The intention here is not to hurt you, but this will be painful if you cannot calm yourself.”

Castiel rubbed his fingers together, generating a sheen of slick liquid.

Technically, this ran contrary to the spirit of the orders he had been given. Zachariah had impressed upon him that the lesson should run secondary to the punishment, but even still, Castiel was loathe to tear the hunter.

He pressed one slick finger into Sam’s spread hole, circling the puckered skin once before pushing inside. Sam let out a low sob. After a moment, Castiel pushed a second finger in, twisting them around to coat Sam’s insides with the lubricating fluid. Sam was clenching down onto him, letting out hisses of pain at each movement.

“It’s difficult to understand how you can feel physical pain so clearly and so intimately, while spiritual pain bothers you hardly at all.”

Castiel added a third finger. He thought that should be enough. When Sam had stretched around the digits, he began sliding them in and out, getting him used to the feeling. Sam moaned, but the hisses of pain were less frequent and he had completely stopped fighting against the cuffs. Castiel used his fingers a few more minutes, telling himself that he wanted Sam prepared. His orders came from Heaven. There would be no divine intervention to save him from this.

He unzipped his slacks, fumbling through the unfamiliar layers to withdraw his vessel’s penis. He wasn’t aroused, but he had enough control over the vessel that he was able to compel an erection anyway. He withdrew from Sam, stroking his wet fingers over his head and shaft until he felt it would be safe to enter him.

Sam trembled when Castiel pushed his legs further apart, settling between them with one knee on the cot. His breath caught when he felt the blunt head of Castiel’s cock pressing into his ass. He made one last plea, but it was lost to the gag, and Castiel didn’t understand.

Gently but firmly, the angel pushed into him, until he was buried completely in Sam’s body. He gripped Sam by the hips, rocking into him, fucking him slowly. Sam whimpered at each thrust, gripping the chains of his shackles like a lifeline. Castiel knew he was hurting the man, but he didn’t know how to make Sam relax. A pressure built in Castiel’s vessel, and he released it, spilling his seed into Sam’s body. He clenched his eyes, unwilling to look at him. He leaned forward, covering Sam’s body with his own, and whispered the words Zachariah had given him.

“You are an abomination, your spirit is numb. What you feel now, this deep sense of violation, is what you should have felt when you disobeyed. It’s important that you feel it now. Learn from it.”

Sam was quiet. When Castiel pulled out of him he flinched, but made no sound. Castiel shifted out of Sam’s plane of vision, and a moment later the hunter was once again lying flat, clothes intact, no evidence that anything had happened. If Sam ever brought himself to speak of this, the others would assume it had been a hallucination. Alistair had never been there, or Mary, or Castiel.

Just a hallucination.

But Sam would know.

 

 

Sam stared at the devil’s trap. There was a hollow feeling in his belly that had nothing to do with the withdrawal.

“How could you? How could you let him?”

“It was for the best, Sammy,” Dean said from his place near the door. “Understand, now, how bad you screwed up?”

Sam didn’t answer. Dean watched him quietly for a minute, and then went back upstairs.

Sam stared at the devil’s trap. The fan blades spun lazily, lulling him into an almost sleep. A few minutes after that, the straps loosened. The door swung open with a click.

Ruby. She’d come for him.

Finally.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For once, I think I don't need to clarify that this was rape. You all picked up on that, right? No fuzzy sociomoral gray areas here. 
> 
>  
> 
> ... I'm gonna go write a story where Sam spends the afternoon playing with a basket of kittens. I think I owe him that. 
> 
> Written for this prompt:  
> http://spnkink-meme.livejournal.com/106950.html?thread=40350406#t40350406


	2. Abandon All Hope...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack to this chapter is [Nobody Wins](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nJz2ILaoKWw) by Iris. 
> 
> It might set the tone for the show.

_“Tomorrow we hunt the devil. This is our last night on earth.”_

“Did you mean it?”

Everyone else had wandered off to bed. After the photograph there hadn’t been anything else to say. The only options were to keep drinking or try to sleep, and no one wanted to fight the devil with a hangover.

Well, much of a hangover, anyway.

Dean had gone last, clapping Sam on the back and sending a questioning glance at Castiel. The angel hadn’t stopped drinking. For him, sleep might not be an option.

“Mean what? When I said this was our last night on earth?”

“When you said I- I was an abomination.”

“Oh.”

They hadn’t talked about it. Castiel had been under heaven’s orders at the time. He’d done things he hadn’t meant. He wasn’t proud of his wavering loyalties.

They didn’t talk about it.

“Heaven has… a certain disinclination toward you. Drinking the demon blood didn’t help.”

Castiel poured out another couple shots, lining them up on the table like Ellen had showed him. He downed them one after another.

“Like their disinclination toward _you_ , or…?”

“No. I am an angel. A disobedient one, but still a member of the host. You… you’re something else.”

Sam contemplated that, staring at the scuffed carpet and tapping a finger against the side of his beer bottle.

“Is that… why you did what you did?”

“Why I raped you.”

“…yeah. Why you did that.”

“I don’t know.”

Sam’s throat tightened. He still had memories about that night. Nightmares. About the detox and the visions. The things his childhood self had said, his mother had said, the things Alistair had said.

The things Castiel had said.

The things Dean had said.

Compared to all that, the physical violation had almost faded into the background of the chaos of that night. The pain of being stretched and penetrated merged into the general throbbing ache of the detox. Castiel’s eyes, regarding him coldly and a little sadly, hurting half as much as Dean’s indifferent stare.

“Did Dean really know? About the… the punishment?”

Castiel looked up sharply.

“You know he didn’t. You _know,_ Sam, that he would never.”

“Yeah. I thought I knew that about _you_ , too.”

Castiel laid out another line of shots.

“You never asked him about it?”

Sam shook his head.

“He’d blame himself. I spent so much of the detox screaming for him, I know it must have been all he could do to stay away. If he knew I really needed help…” Sam let out a quick, sardonic little laugh.

Castiel killed the bottle.

 

“I think about it sometimes, you know,” Castiel said after a while. “About why it was me, they sent to punish you. I didn’t want to. I know it’s no comfort to you to hear, but, I didn’t want to.”

Sam snorted. Castiel soldiered on.

“I was given a message and told to deliver it to you, verbatim. Afterward.”

“I remember.” Sam’s voice was rough. The bottle was long since empty, but he held it anyway, twisting it between his hands.

“It’s not their normal method, not at all,” Castiel went on. “We strike people blind, send plagues, kill firstborns, turn people to salt, that sort of thing. It’s not that heaven isn’t cruel. We drowned the world. Let god sort it out, and all that. But when I received my orders it was the first time I’d ever heard of a punishment so… _personal._ ”

“You mean I’m the first person you’ve ever had to come down and fuck into submission?”

Castiel felt his face burn at the words. They were callous, but accurate.

Dean had later asked if he had ever been with a woman- his nervousness regarding the topic weren’t entirely related to his biblical virginity. It was true he’d never been with a woman. He hadn’t lied.

“The message Zachariah gave me for you. I went over it in my head, afterward.” _And before, and during, let’s not forget then._ “He said spirit. Not soul.”

Sam ran his hands through his hair, still not looking at the angel.

“So?”

“I don’t think the message was for you,” Castiel said dully. His voice was starting to slow, and Sam wondered if maybe the alcohol wasn’t finally beginning to affect him. “He said spirit, not soul. He was very adamant that the message be delivered exactly. After. And he said spirit.”

Castiel finally looked over at Sam. He was suddenly very tired.

“I think the message was for me. He wanted me to prove my alliance. Prove I wouldn’t choose you and your brother over heaven.”

Sam scoffed.

“Well, it’s nice to know that the plan backfired, at least.”

“… yeah.”

They contemplated their respective bottles.

“Did you…” Sam started. “Have you ever… did you like it?”

Castiel balked.

“No! _No!_ How… why would you think that?”

Sam shrugged.

“You came. Um… _in_ me. It was still there… after.” Sam tapped the side of his bottle. “It’s how I knew it was real. One of the ways. Some of the stuff I saw was… pretty realistic.”

Castiel sighed.

“My orders were to see the… _act_ through to completion. Which in my experience, requires an ejaculation. I was able to compel that reaction from my vessel, but no. I did not enjoy it.”

“Okay… okay. Yeah.”

Sam considered going to the fridge for another beer.

“Don’t tell Dean, yeah?”

“I had no plans to.”

“Good, that’s…. that’s good. He doesn’t need that, you know? He has a lot of faith in you.”

Castiel suddenly felt very tired.

“Yes. He does. No matter how misplaced, he continues to have faith in me.”

“It’s important to him. He needs it. Faith, I mean. I’ve always had God, but Dean… I think all he has is you.”

Castiel felt sick. Dean. The righteous man. His friend.

Dean deserved to believe in something so much better than him. So much better than a broken angel who couldn’t stop making mistakes. Couldn’t follow righteous orders and couldn’t reject abhorrent ones.

Maybe he _was_ an abomination.

“So you should know,” Sam said, deciding in favor of another beer and standing up to get one, “in case we, you know, die tomorrow.”

Castiel turned, watching him move through the kitchen. He didn’t say anything, just waited.

“I forgive you. As much as I can. It was a fucked up thing to do, but in your own way you thought you were doing the right thing.” Sam shrugged. “You were wrong, but you’re not the only one who made mistakes. Did shitty stuff.”

“Sam… what I…. it doesn’t compare…”

“You’re right, it doesn’t,” Sam interrupted, wrenching the bottle cap off with more force than required. “You raped me and I let Lucifer rise. That doesn’t scale. But you’re here with me, risking your life to help me fix the mess _I made,_ so the least I can do is drop some old grudges.”

The cap skittered and rolled across the kitchen floor, disappearing under the fridge. Sam watched it go, then drained half the beer in one swig.

“I won’t forget. I can’t. I’ll never look up to you like Dean does. But I don’t hold it against you. Not any more. So I guess that means, I forgive you.”

“Sam… I don’t…”

Sam waved him off. Castiel didn’t know how to continue. This thing that had been setting between them had suddenly melted off, and he wasn’t sure what to do now that it was gone.

“See you in the morning, then?” Sam asked, taking the rest of the bottle and heading for the bedroom.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll be here.”

Sam paused, looking back over his shoulder.

“I know, Cas.”

And then he was gone. The house was quiet, filled with the sleeping shuffles of people who might not see another night. Good people. People who deserved better.

Castiel sighed. He couldn’t sleep.

He got up in search of another drink.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd be interested in hearing your take on this chapter. My creative style for this one differed from usual in two central ways: 
> 
> 1\. I brainstormed it during a catholic wedding service followed by an *incredibly* long reception. I sat next to the priest, I shit you not. I managed not to say any bad words and as far as I can tell, he couldn't tell just by looking at me. 
> 
> 2\. Right now? I am _drunk._ I hate the taste of alcohol so I don't drink much, but my sister came up with the idea of vanilla vodka and root beer. I've heard people say that weed makes them better artists? So I've giving inebriation a shot. I don't know if my writing is different. I know that _talking_ is getting a little hard.


End file.
